


Mine

by phantisma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-03
Updated: 2006-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:53:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is pointless PWP...what more do you need for a summary?  Schloompy word!porn (verbal masterbation), mirror!porn, toy!porn...and yeah, incest...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

The room is quiet, with only the sounds of soft breathing and the occasional passing car on the highway outside. Sam is silent, but his presence fills the room. Dean waits.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t shift his weight. He stands…still…silent, his hands on the desk where Sam had put them after slowly undressing him. He’s bent forward slightly, his upper body angled toward the wall, his face inches from the ornate mirror covering bad wall paper.

He can see Sam, Sam’s reflection. He’s laying on the bed, eyes half-closed but watching. He can feel Sam’s eyes without looking for them, knows where he looks by the feel. He doesn’t know how long they’ve held these places…only that Sam had whispered in his ear, _Mine_ and _don’t talk_ and _want to look at you_ and that was all it took to make Dean hard.

Past undressing him, peeling off his clothes like Dean was some doll, and pressing his hands to the wood of the desk, Sam hasn’t touched him, except with his eyes. He’s clear across the room, watching.

His eyes meet Dean’s in the mirror and Dean can read lust and desire and _mine_ in them as clearly as if Sam were whispering the words in his ears.

When he finally speaks, Sam’s voice is low, deep and sensual, all gold tones like aged scotch. “Do you know how beautiful you are Dean?” He doesn’t move, his long body stretched out on the bed, his head and chest propped up on all the pillows in the room, hands folded across his belly casual…at ease. “Have you seen how they look at you?”

Dean breathes slowly, carefully. His cock feels heavy with arousal, hanging down so that he knows Sam can see it through his thighs. “That man, outside the bar…he couldn’t take his eyes off your ass tonight. In those jeans…he nearly fucking came when I touched you there Dean…do you remember?”

Dean’s eyes flutter close, cause yes, he remembers…It was unexpected and public. Sam’s big hand cupping to his ass, holding it, caressing it. _Mine_

“They all wanted you Dean…they all looked…” Sam’s breathing changed, stuttering a little and Dean heard the sound of his zipper, harsh against the stillness in the room. “Your eyes…that way they sparkle when you’re flirting with the waitress…made her think she stood a chance…she wanted you…she wanted to touch you…but you looked at me and she knew…your eyes don’t ever lie about that…” _Mine_

He doesn’t have to say it, because it lives in Dean’s skin. Sam moans softly and Dean can see in the mirror that his cock is out of his jeans, standing up, hard and curved and Sam’s hands are back on his stomach, and his eyes are crawling over Dean’s back.

“You licked your lips when you looked at that cop…and fuck Dean…you’ve got the prettiest lips.” Dean’s tongue moves on its own, sweeping over his lips, tasting the last shot of Jack he’d downed before they’d left the bar. “I love watching them…bite for me Dean.”

And Sam’s eyes are in the mirror, staring at Dean’s face, at the flush that’s crept up under his freckles, at this lips, already red with arousal, even as he sinks his upper teeth into his lower lip, turning it pink-white with the pressure. Sam groans and shifts a little on the bed…but his hands never move. His breath hisses through his teeth and Dean almost doesn’t realize that the whimper he hears is himself.

“I wanted to watch you open that mouth for him…let him stretch those lips…wanted to lick them and bite them until they bled for me.” _Mine_

Dean wants to move now, he’s leaking pre-come and he needs to be touched…he wants to beg, to plead with Sam…but he’s quiet…Sam wants him quiet. Sam wants to pet him with pretty words and finger him with filthy ones…and Dean thinks he might just come anyway.

“Want to watch you, Dean. Want to see you. Spread yourself for me.”

And Dean doesn’t hesitate. His hands leave the desk and he leans forward until his chest connects with the wood. He adjusts his stance, moving his feet further apart and brings his hands up to his ass. His fingers slide against his hole before sliding further down and slowly opening his cheeks for Sam to see him. The blood is pounding through him, pooling in the rock hard length of his cock and for just a moment, Dean sees stars. _Mine_

“Not yet Dean.” Sam says it softly, and Dean can’t see him anymore, but he can feel him. “Top right drawer of the desk. There’s lube. I want to watch you fuck yourself.” His voice deepens, becomes coarser, like he’s been yelling for hours. Dean’s hands shake as he opens the drawer and pulls out the small bottle, spilling some onto the fingers of his right hand. “One finger Dean…I want…one finger…”

Dean slides the first finger in easily enough, and begins to move it in and out. “Slowly…I want to watch…that’s it baby…nice and easy…” Dean could come right there because this is so different, and it could be humiliating if it weren’t his Sammy…and he’s so fucking hot. “More Dean…two fingers…I want to see you open up…that’s it…fuck yourself for me.”

Sam’s breathing is heavier now and he shifts a few times on the bed. Dean knows he isn’t touching himself…that he’s waiting for something…His own cock is screaming for release, without ever being touched and that’s humiliating and invigorating and he whimpers again in place of begging, because Sam said not to talk. _Mine_

Sam’s voice has a new tone in it with his next words, husky and breathy and it scrapes across Dean’s skin leaving him trembling and raw. “Other drawer…I got you something…”

Dean’s free hand opens the drawer and laying there, on a cloud of black velvet is the prettiest damn dildo he’s ever seen…It’s all soft and hard and fleshy…a perfect size and shape and he lifts it almost reverently. “No one but me Dean…”

“Sam,” he breathes in awe, forgetting for the moment that he’s meant to be silent…but Sam overlooks it.

Dean stops his slow finger fucking and turns to look at Sam, at his perfect cock that matches the one in his hand. “No one but me.” _Mine_

Dean nods and turns back around. He isn’t sure he can do it…because he’s so close and if he tries…”Now Dean…need to see it…need to watch you…”

He breathes deep, exhales slowly, and wills the strength to hold off just a little longer. He lubes up the velvety flesh of the fake cock and bends over, his cock leaking steadily onto the carpet below him. He doesn’t breathe as he pushes it in, fills himself up slowly, feeling the pressure burn, almost as if it were Sam.

“Slow, baby…slow…show me…want to see…” Dean nestled it in as deep as it would go and took his hand away, spread his cheeks for Sam. “Fuck…you are so beautiful Dean…do it for me…”

Dean’s pull is slow and his eyes roll back as he fights the orgasm that he won’t hold off much longer. Two, three strokes, slow and deep and he can hear Sam’s breathing kick up a notch, hears that _sound_ Sam makes when he’s close…”Please,” Dean whispers against the desk and he knows, permission or not he’s going to come…”Please Sammy…please…”

“Mine.”

“Yours.”

“Yeah…yeah…”

And Dean sags against the desk, his body limp as his cock spills onto the floor. He hears Sam come…feels him come and then his voice, softer still, tender, calling him. “Leave the cock in and come here.” And it’s hard to walk, but it’s only a few steps and Sam sits up, his feet on the floor. Dean sinks to sit between them, slightly off on his hip to accommodate the dildo still up his ass, and rests his head on his brother’s thigh, sighing and willing his heartbeat to go back to normal.

Sam’s strong fingers stroke his hair, glide over his back. He stops when he reaches the fleshy balls of the fake cock. A twist and a tug, and it slides out with a pop. Sam curls over on himself and kisses Dean’s head. “Love you.”

Dean turns, brushing his lips over Sam’s skin, and looks up at him. There’s a small smile there on his lips, because he hears far more than the words in his brother’s voice. There’s _Love you_ , but there’s _Mine_ and _Yours_ in there too.


End file.
